


goodnight moon

by Cypherr



Series: MCYT agere oneshots [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Brotherly Affection, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, i will personally find a throttle all who ship these two, only the characters that they portray, this is not a representation of the content creators themselves, this is not a ship fic you sick fucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypherr/pseuds/Cypherr
Summary: The atmosphere was warm, fuzzy, safe, and sleepy, and he could feel himself slipping.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: MCYT agere oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054163
Comments: 37
Kudos: 791





	goodnight moon

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT A SHIP FIC NOR IS IT SEXUAL IN ANY WAY  
> for those of you unaware, agere is a coping mechanism that is COMPLETELY sfw- for minors, for adults, for EVERYONE- and is when someone slips into the mindset of being much younger, aka, littlespace. 
> 
> There is a severe lack of agere fics in this fandom (although the few that there are, are absolutely AMAZING, and if you haven't already, go check them out) and I was like YOU KNOW WHAT, and wrote one myself.

Tommy had been staying at Wilbur's place for a few days, having been given permission by his parents to hang with his friend (his older brother) for a couple of weeks while they were away on a business trip. It was late, currently, and they were lying on Wilbur's plush couch watching a cheesy action movie he couldn't remember the name of. The atmosphere was warm, fuzzy, safe, and sleepy, and he could feel himself slipping. Not wanting to give Wilbur any more fuel to make fun of him with, he was fighting the headspace hard, biting his nails and fidgeting in place, changing the position he was sitting in constantly.

"For fucks sake, Tommy, would you sit still?" Wilbur bit from the left of him. He froze in place, hunching over, mumbling a quick 's'rry,' moving to bite his thumbnail. He heard Wilbur sigh before the movie was paused, but before he could ask what was up, he was being dragged off of the sofa by a hand encircling his wrist. He was pulled down the hallway towards the brunette's room, the man only stopping for a second to grab something off of a shelf along the way.

"Wil- wha'?" He managed to get out just before they reached Wilbur's room. Wilbur didn't respond, continuing on his mission, pushing the door open and dragging him through, shutting it behind them with a kick of a long leg. He, despite having been in the house for a while, had never seen Wil's room. There were fairy lights strung up around the walls, a desk stuffed in the far corner with an old computer and papers scattered everywhere on top of it, and Wil's bed was sat in the middle, queen-sized and covered in soft earth tones.

He was pulled onto the bed, Wilbur cradling him close, tucking his head under his chin, arms wrapped around his middle.

"Wilby, wha'-" he started, slipping further unintentionally in the warm comfort Wilbur provided.

"Shh, Toms, It's alright." He melted against Wilbur, whining lowly as his brain processed the nickname. There was a hand in his hair, then, petting him as blunt nails gently scraped against his scalp.

"Wilby," he mumbled, syllables slurred and the word barely intelligible, now clutching the soft, muted brown sweater Wilbur was wearing in unsteady hands.

"Shh, baby boy, it's getting late, hmm? How about a bedtime story?" Tommy nodded weakly, mind a haze of warmth, safety, and comfort. He felt Wilbur lean them forward for a second before a velvety soft blanket was wrapped around them. He hummed, leaning further into Wilbur, feeling smaller by the second.

"In the great green room, there was a telephone." Wilbur's voice was soothing, low but not quite raspy. The words of the story curled themselves around his mind as the gentle melody of Wilbur's tone lulled him to sleep.

"Goodnight, noises everywhere. Goodnight, my sweet Toms."

\---

If Tommy moved one more time, Wilbur was going to scream. Sure, the movie was shit but he couldn't even shut his brain off and just sit and watch the mindless media because he kept being distracted by the couch moving every ten seconds.

"For fucks sake, Tommy, would you sit still?" He bit, finally at his breaking point. He knew something was wrong, however, when instead of the usual scathing reply he had come to expect from knowing Tommy for so long, all he got was a mumbled 's'rry.' The kid couldn't even bother to pronounce the word properly. A glance over to Tommy revealed him to be hunched over, nibbling on the edge of his already bitten down thumbnail. His demeanor softened immediately- Tommy was fighting a regression. Sure, he wasn't sure why Tommy was regressing, or even that he regressed in the first place, but he'd been around in this world long enough to know what it was. Tommy was his kid brother as well, even if not by blood- it was his job to take care of him.

He sighed, reaching over to the coffee table for the TV remote, and paused the film. He knew he had to act fast and without telling Tommy, lest the blonde fight back and deny everything, which was not what he needed. He'd been with Wilbur for nearly a week now- God knows the last time he was able to regress. Knowing Tommy, the poor boy had probably been alone every time, as well.

He stood, gently wrapping his hand around Tommy's thin wrist, hauling him off the couch, his furrowed expression warming his heart. He gently tugged Tommy towards his room, picking out a book- 'Goodnight Moon,' specifically- from his bookshelf as they passed it. (Sure, maybe it was odd for a man into his twenties to have kept books from his childhood, but he'd been hoping to pass them along to younger family members one day, be it his own children, cousins, or nieces and nephews. It was practically tradition.)

"Wil- wha'?" He heard Tommy murmur from behind him when they had finally reached his bedroom door. He stayed silent, dragging the boy into his room- making sure to shut the door behind them- and moving over to his bed. Since the blonde was distracted by his room, looking around at the fairy lights with childlike wonder, he took the time to quickly stacking some pillows against the metal frame of his headboard, pulling the blankets and sheet back. He pulled Tommy onto the bed with him afterwards, the kid not even realizing he had been left alone for a bit. It saddened him to see the boy fight the headspace he so obviously needed.

He sat back against the wall of pillows he had created, situating Tommy against his chest, head tucked under his chin and face pressed into his sweater-clad collar bone.

"Wilby, wha'-" Tommy tried to protest, voice weak. The nickname made him melt, holding the boy closer. 

"Shh, Toms, it's alright," He soothed, reaching a hand up to gently comb it through untamed locks, gently scraping his blunt nails across his scalp. Tommy whined lowly, sinking further into his embrace.

"Wilby," the kid murmured, syllables slurring together, the word hardly intelligible. He smiled at the sight of Tommy clutching his sweater tightly, like he was trying to make sure Wilbur didn't leave.

"Shh, baby boy, it's getting late, hmm? How about a bedtime story?" He offered, getting another lone whine and a slow nod in response. The sight of the boy in his arms was precious, baby blue eyes barely kept open, hazy in the warmth and comfort of his headspace, hands grasping his muted brown jumper weakly, and Tommy leaning on him completely, Trusting Wilbur to take care of him.

He leaned forward a bit, arm tight around Tommy to keep him in place, so he could grab the velvety soft, faded gold blanket folded on the edge of his bed. He wrapped it around Tommy gently, the boy sighing in content at the new source of warmth. He could see Tommy regress further before his very eyes, sinking into his chest, his grip growing weaker, and a few mumbled babbles slipping from his lips. He picked up the book he had set to the side, then, opening the thick, well work cover to begin reading. 

"In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon," he began, voice low and even. He continued on, watching as Tommy fell into the clutches of slumber, hardly awake by the time he finished the short story.

"Goodnight, noises everywhere. Goodnight, my sweet Toms." The boy was out like a light with a small babble of what he assumed was supposed to be a goodnight to him. He set the book down on his nightstand, carefully moving so he was semi laying down, Tommy still resting on his chest. With a quick thought, he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture, sending it to Phil with a couple of the 'pleading face' emojis. Phil, also awake at the late hour because neither of them were genuinely responsible adults, sent back an 'aww' and a couple of hearts.

Wilbur definitely did not set the picture as his phone background. (Of course he did. That was his baby brother, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide between Tommy POV or Wilbur POV so I wrote both


End file.
